At War With Himself
by rumpelsnorcack
Summary: Rory is having difficulty reconciling the many different selves he has roaming around inside his head


At War With Himself

**TARDIS, 2012, rebooted universe, 24 years old**

Rory sighed and plunked himself down on the bed. His head ached and he needed some time out from Amy and the Doctor. Their eternal cheerfulness, bounciness and just plain loudness had worn him down today so he'd made some excuse he couldn't even remember. As his head sank into the cool, feathery depths of the pillow, Rory closed his eyes in bliss.

Just as he felt himself drifting off to sleep, he heard a soft knock at his door. Rory was tempted to ignore whoever it was, but guilt at the idea of inconveniencing someone pulled him off the bed and across the room.

'River!' He gaped at her. 'I mean Melody, Mels ...' he stopped, frustrated. 'What do I even call you now?

'River will do,' she smiled as she pushed past him into the room. 'I can come in? I assume that's what all the fish-like gaping means.'

'Sure. I mean, yes. Come in, sit down.' Rory felt unnerved by her appearance. He just wasn't used to _this_ being his baby, his Melody. In his head this woman was still the competent, half-scary, half-really comforting 'older female' figure he'd known for so long. They had been equals back then – neither of them had any specific role in the other's life, other than 'colleague' or possibly 'friend' at times. He couldn't get his head around the idea that _he_ was supposed to be a parent to _her_ now; or not even really 'supposed' to, he thought wryly, since she still behaved as if she didn't need anybody or anything. It was just that he felt this duty as a father to look after her, and ... this was all _such_ a complicated mess. He groaned. Life was chaotic enough with the Doctor without throwing this into his path – and having River here was doing nothing to help his headache.

River had seated herself on the bed he shared with Amy. The bed, Rory realised with a start and a blush, in which she had been conceived mere months ago. As if sensing his discomfort, she grinned up at him.

'Now, Daddy,' she purred at him, clearly enjoying the start he gave. 'You're looking very tense and awkward.' She patted the bed next to her. 'Come and tell me all about it.'

Rory remained by the door, closing it carefully and trying to get his jumbled thoughts into order before he faced her. River sighed behind him and he turned to look at her. She looked diminished somehow; one emotion after another chasing across her face. Her body had locked into one position and the smile she directed at him looked forced. Forgetting his own worries in his concern for his daughter, Rory hurried to her side.

Rory watched as River shook her head as if to chase away whatever was bothering her. She gave him a mischievous smile, but her body remained slightly tense. 'So ... how do we do this?' She asked him. 'We could pretend all of this never happened, but that seems like a very inefficient way of going about things. Amy is perfectly fine with the way things are, but you seem very – ' she waved her hand at him, 'I'll go with 'tense' – around me.'

'It's not you,' Rory protested heatedly. He blushed again as she quirked one eyebrow at him. 'It's not! If you must know, it's ...' he paused awkwardly, unsure how to bring this up to one of the people playing such a major role in his problems.

'Spit it out!' She encouraged dryly.

'It's ... I have three lives now and I don't know which one is real. I think I'm going mad!' The last few words came out in a rush.

'Oh.' River looked at him for a long moment before answering. 'You don't look mad to me,' River stopped and considered something before finishing, 'you of all people know I have some experience with madness.' Rory tried to cut in again and she raised her hand to stop him. 'Don't try to lie, Rory – you were there when I regenerated. You saw how I was; so trust me – you're not mad. Confused maybe, but _not_ insane.'

Rory realised that he wanted, no _needed_, to talk about what was worrying him; for some reason, River's last comment reassured him that she would understand and wouldn't judge him. When he forgot that she was Melody, forgot that he was her father, and just treated her the way he had when they were in America – as equals, and equals who understood each other on some basic level – he found her remarkably easy to talk to. Suddenly words were pouring out of him as he tried to explain his many selves to her.

**Leadworth, 1997, original universe, 9 years old**

'I _said_, are you all right, you bloody numpty?'

Forcing himself to stop staring at Amelia's lashes and the way they rested on her cheeks as she scolded him, nine-year-old Rory nodded and sat up. In the distance he could see the boys who'd been teasing him, laughing and jostling each other. Amy scowled at them, body still in the aggressive pose she'd used to chase them off.

'What were you doing letting them bully you like that? You couldn't stand up to them?'

Grimacing, Rory shook his head and scrambled to his feet. 'They came out of nowhere. I don't know ...' he stopped and squinted at her. 'Thanks.' He blushed as he clambered to his feet.

'You're welcome.' She stared at him thoughtfully for a minute. ''Well, come on then. It looks like you need someone to look after you, so we'll be friends. You're not to make me cook things, mind. The Raggedy Doctor did that and I didn't like it ...' she kept up a running dialogue as they wandered off in the direction of her house, and while this forthrightness was somewhat alarming Rory discovered that Amelia was remarkably easy to be friends with. She made some weird demands of him, yes, and she was a bit ... well, a bit mental and saw psychologists every other week, but she never forced him to make decisions, she always stood up for him – and she needed him. People were wary of her and she had no other friends. Rory found he really enjoyed being with her.

Within months, people would look at him and ask in puzzled tones, 'but where's Amelia?' if they happened to spot him alone. Though he always protested, Rory never really minded because he'd lost his heart to her when she'd rescued him, and would walk to the ends of the earth for her if she wanted him to. He knew she didn't feel the same way, but Rory didn't care. She needed him, needed his friendship, and that was enough for him.

**Roman Britain, AD 88, original universe, 9 years old**

My name is Roranicus, I am nine years old and I live near Londinium with my family. My tutor wants me to practise my scribe skills so he says I have to write down things about myself. It's all a bit boring, but he's scary so I guess I'd better do it. We have a decent sized villa, certainly much better than we could afford if we lived in Rome. At least that's what Dad tells me and Aemilia whenever we complain about wanting to see the capital. Aemilia's my sister and she's so annoying. She gets these weird flights of fancy about the stars and how she wants to visit them one day, and it's all just so _impractical_; but the other kids around here are so dull that I don't mind, really. All the boys want to be farmers or senators, but I want to be a soldier. Aemilia and I, we go down to the legionaries' camp all the time. They just look so impressive in their uniforms, and their job is so important. It's more important than farming – anyone can grow things – and being a senator? They have no real power anymore. No, I want to defend Rome from our enemies. Besides, this is my best bet to get to see Rome itself one day and get away from this place. The problem is that my dad has ambitions for me and they don't involve the army. I don't like standing up to him—he can get really annoying with the 'my son will never be a simple soldier' thing – so I'm waiting until I have my toga virilis. When I'm a man I'll be able to do what I want to. Aemilia keeps teasing me that she's going to tell Dad that I want to fight before I'm old enough, but I know she's just kidding – the good thing about her being so full of weird ideas is that she understands my dream.

**Upper Leadworth, 1997, rebooted universe, 9 years old**

They were in trouble again. Rory sighed to himself; he had no idea how he let the two of them drag him into the messes they got into and yet they always managed to involve him somehow.

Mels grinned at him, her eyes alight with the pure joy of the adventure. Amelia spun around with her arms out, clearly enjoying the moment. Rory gritted his teeth and turned to look at the orchard owner bearing down on them with rage in his eyes.

'Amelia!' he hissed urgently. 'Amelia – he's coming!'

'Bollocks!' Mels stated in matter of fact tones. 'They always spoil the fun. Come on, Aims, let's go wind him up.'

'No! This is stupid ...' Rory whispered furiously as the two of them giggled and hurried off. His heart clenched when way Amelia rolled her eyes at Mels. He knew Mels thought he was a wet blanket, but the idea that Amelia agreed with her upset him.

'Why can't you two be sensible for once?' he muttered under his breath as he followed them, hoping that he wouldn't have to face up to the orchard's owner. He was careful not to speak too loudly because in the past such questions had garnered sniggers and 'you're such a nerd, Rory' comments. Better to vent the feelings harmlessly to himself than endure any more of the patronising comments from his two supposed best friends.

Sometimes Rory wished he could just give up on the friendship – the way they treated him, as something of a pet dog or a running joke, was painful. But he had invested too much of himself into caring about the two girls – and besides they would definitely get into serious trouble without him to look after them. So he hung around, enjoying the good times and gritting his teeth and pretending to laugh through the bad times, because he knew it would get better when they just grew up a bit. At least, he _hoped_ it would get better.

Sighing again, he hurried off to confront whatever repercussions this bout of mischief had created.

**TARDIS, 2012, rebooted universe, 24 years old**

Rory stopped talking and looked at River beseechingly. She was studying him thoughtfully and he could almost see the cogs twirling in her brain.

'So – you do see, right? That all happened. Except it can't have all happened because ...' Rory trailed off miserably again.

'Why not?' was River's straightforward response. 'You lived it all, so it's all real.'

Rory huffed. Clearly he had failed to get across some important part of the experience to her, some essential aspect of the way this was ripping him up inside and making him feel pulled in too many different directions to fit all of himself inside one small human skin. He tried again.

'Roranicus ... he's definitely not real. I mean that was all memories implanted into the auton me. It _can't_ have happened. And yet I can feel the grass under my feet as I ran down to the legionaries' quarters. I can taste the salt in the air but I've never _really_ lived where there was any sea.'

'You worry about details too much, Rory. Just accept it or you'll go crazy.'

He stared at her in frustration. 'That's just it, though. I already feel like I'm going mad.' He stood up, running his hands through his hair as he did so. 'All these blokes are living in my head and while I can shut them off I know they're in there and it's doing my head in!' Unconsciously, Rory started to pace the room.

River was watching him, her customary amused smile back on her lips but compassion in her eyes.

'What is it you're really worried about? Let's work through this. It's not me,' she smirked at him, 'though it's most unfatherly not to worry about your daughter, not to mention the rather brutal assessment of my character you just did.' She quirked her eyebrow at him and he squirmed under her gaze, tempted to apologise until she distracted him. '– it's not really all the voices in your head, you know,' she said in conversational tones. River raised her hand again as he opened his mouth to protest. 'It's _really_ not. You could live with just a whole lot of memories, even three lifetimes and two thousand years' worth, so it's more specific than that. Let's hear some more and see if we can't nut this out.'

**Roman Britain, AD 93, original universe, 14 years old**

Roranicus was very proud of his brand new toga. He walked out of the house with his head held high, determined to go down to the legionaries and talk to them for once. He was on his way down there when he came across Aemilia and some of her friends in the town centre. Aemilia's friends were all younger than he was and Roranicus strutted past them, expecting to hear oohs and ahhs of admiration at his new manhood. Instead, they laughed. Flushing, Roranicus tried to walk away with his head held high, but one of the boys darted out and threw dirt onto his toga.

'There. Now you're not so pure and high and mighty anymore!' he taunted as he backed back into the laughing crowd. Roranicus saw red. He didn't usually fight, but today he was angry, hurt and humiliated. His heart beat with a passionate rage as he stared at the other boy. He could feel himself flaring with hatred as he marched over to the group. The crack of his fist on the other boy's nose was very satisfying, as was the way the nose crunched as it broke. Panting, a little alarmed at what he had done, Roranicus looked to Aemilia to see how she had taken it. Her mouth had dropped into an O of surprise and she was looking at him in a way she never had before—with respect. The other boys had run away, and as Aemilia turned from him she winked. He smiled, on top of the world. When his father asked him about the incident that evening, Roranicus blushed but held his head high as he admitted to what he'd done. To his surprise his father smiled and clapped him on the back.

'I think it's time to see about getting you into the army, boy. Today has definitely showed you to be a man.'

'But I thought you didn't like the army ...'

'Son, a man chooses his own destiny, and today it looks like you chose yours. It looks like fighting's in your blood.'

Covered in pride, Roranicus went to bed and dreamed of the day when he really would be a centurion.

**Upper Leadworth, 2003, rebooted universe, 14 years old**

'You know what?' he said. 'I don't need this. You two can be happy together, but I'm not going to hang out with you anymore.' He spun on his heels, leaving Mels and Amelia on the green in the middle of the village. He could hear Mels laughing and shouting something after him, something about how he would be back, but Amelia – or Amy as she now liked to be known – tried to follow him. She knew him better than Mels did and could sense the finality in his tone. _She_ knew she'd pushed him too far. Rory turned once to look towards Amy. She was arguing with Mels but showed no sign of following him. Reluctantly he turned back and trudged towards his home. His heart was already starting to tell him that Amy was special to him but she had hurt him terribly every time she put him down around Mels. It was almost as if Mels was more important to her than he was, and that thought stabbed at Rory. So he marched away from her, back stiff; fiery heart beating with a righteous thump in his chest.

In the days that followed Amy tried alternatively to cajole and shame him out of his 'sulk' as she called it. Her brutally honest attacks on his character made him cringe, mostly because he knew deep in his heart that she was right about some things. He _was_ a pushover usually, he _was_ being stubborn. But he knew that the way they put him down so much just wasn't right. He knew he deserved better. Being with Amy, loving Amy, was too hard when she treated him like a pet, someone with no brain and no feelings of his own. Amy tried her hardest to bring him around, but it was Mels who finally broke through his resolve when she arrived at his house one morning, barged in and locked the door behind her.

'Mels!' He said in horror. 'What will Mum think?'

'I don't care,' she said brusquely. 'You are being stupid and I want to know why. Amy is beside herself and is no fun to do anything with anymore.' She eyed him thoughtfully. 'And it's all because of you. So. You need to stop being an idiot and come back to hang out with us.'

Rory could feel his face growing both stiff and bright red.

'You know what, Mels? I really don't need to do any of that. Maybe if you and Amy really wanted me to be around, you might have treated me a bit better. I'm not stupid, you know.' Mels opened her mouth but all the long-held bitterness Rory had held inside finally exploded out of him.

'Fuck you, Mels!' he shouted. 'I have feelings. You treat me like a disposable lapdog. I'm not your friend; I'm your convenient punching bag. Why would I want to hang out with people who clearly don't give a damn about me?'

'Well, because we're awesome,' Mels smirked at him. 'And you get street cred for hanging out with two brilliant girls when you're such a nerd.'

Rory snapped his mouth closed. He glared at her for a long moment, then clearly, slowly said, 'you need to leave Mels. You're not welcome in my house. Tell Amy she can stay away too. I don't need either of you.'

Mels stared at him. Slowly she got up off his bed and unlocked the door. She looked back at him once, her face confused and a hint of remorse in her expression. Rory remained stony as he looked at her, not breaking eye contact as she sighed and left the room.

**Leadworth, 2003, original universe, 14 years old**

At fourteen Rory and Amy were still inseparable. Jeff, one of the local boys, constantly teased Rory for always hanging out with a girl. He made slurs and insinuations about Rory's sexuality that perplexed Rory. He liked Amy, despite her weirdness, her obsession with the Raggedy Doctor and her string of psychologists, so why shouldn't he hang out with her? The boys all did stupid things anyway. On the few occasions that Rory spent any time with them, they made lots of fart jokes and talked about girls. Rory was pretty sure they had no idea what they were talking about – had none of them spent any time around real girls? Amy certainly wasn't like the girls these boys talked about. Rory was always bored when he was with them.

One day, as Rory walked past a group of boys lounging on the village green, Jeff called out yet another insult to him. Normally in these situations Rory, who was allergic to conflict, would just hold his head a little higher and walk on. He would turn things over and over in his head afterwards, telling himself what he should have said, what he should have done, but when the next time came Rory always scuttled past, too scared to face up to the bigger boys. Today, however, he finally decided to push back, sick of being the weak, boring one. He shouted, 'piss off, Jeff,' before walking on quickly, slightly panicked at his daring. He felt a thump on the back of his head and saw stars as he fell over and his head cracked onto the pavement.

The other boys laughed, that slightly strained laugh where they knew they had gone too far, but they didn't want the bully to turn on _them_. Rory groaned and squinted up at Jeff. He was looking slightly shocked though still belligerent, and Rory knew in that instant what he had to do. He staggered to his feet, swaying a little and held his hand up in a placating way towards Jeff, who relaxed and stood back a little. Rory seized the chance, bent over further and rammed his head into Jeff's stomach. He felt Jeff begin to topple backwards and pulled himself to standing just in time. Jeff fell onto his back, the wind knocked out of him. Rory kicked him once in the side, looked at the other boys who had stopped laughing and were staring at Rory in shock. He grinned at them, then turned and walked away again. This time no-one followed him, but he soon caught up with Amy.

'Rory! That was amazing!'

'Amy, I ...I don't know what came over me. I don't usually ...'

'I know you don't, and that's why the other guys pick on you so much. You should fight more often. It's cool.'

'I don't think so,' Rory said. The guilt was already eating at him and he made a mental note to apologise to Jeff if he ever got the chance. Amy smirked at him, well aware of what he was thinking. She was wise enough not to push him, though, realising that if she did he'd just get stubborn and she'd never get him to do what she wanted. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind her.

'Come on, Rory,' she laughed. 'Let's go play some music in my room. Forget about those idiots.'

Rory allowed her to distract him by playing CDs and teasing each other about their taste in music. The incident weighed on his mind, however, and he did seek out Jeff one day when he was alone to apologise. To his shock, Jeff spoke up first.

'Rory, look,' he said, running his hands through his hair. 'I'm sorry I've been teasing you.'

Rory eyed him nervously. Was this some sort of joke? Was Jeff going to produce his friends and attack him again? But it appeared that Jeff was sincere.

'No problem,' said Rory eventually. 'I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have kicked you when you were down like that.'

'Forget it,' Jeff said. 'You've got a good boot on you, though. Want to play football sometime? We could do with a good kicker on the team.' A smile tugged at Jeff's mouth as Rory blushed.

Rory said he'd think about it and walked away in a daze. Maybe Amy had been right. Maybe Rory did just need to stand up to bullies. Feeling much happier Rory moved on his way back home. He was never going to be a fighter, but maybe he didn't have to be a complete doormat either.

**TARDIS, 2012, rebooted universe, 24 years old**

Rory felt like he'd run a mile, drained and sweating. He glanced over at River and found her laughing softly to herself. He flushed, suddenly insecure again.

'I'm ... uh, sorry I swore at you when you were Mels.'

'Oh don't worry about it darling. I've heard worse – I've said worse – and besides I think I had it coming. You were just so much fun to tease; the reactions were priceless.'

Rory's mouth twisted grimly. 'I still shouldn't have yelled at you like that.'

River snorted. 'Of course you should. It was the best thing you ever did. You remember how after that we actually became proper friends? Amy got very boring and naggy but I think she would have anyway. Her trouble making was never as adventurous as mine.'

'Yeah it was,' Rory said. 'Only – that was in another life, a different Amy. And that's another question – are all these Amys the same? The Amy now, she doesn't seem to care what brought her to this point. She just is.' Rory stopped and looked down at his hands, noticing casually that they were white knuckled from being clenched together so hard. He carefully unclenched them, took another deep breath and said, 'I think I know what _my_ problem is.'

'Hmmm?' River sounded non-committal but encouraging.

'I can't figure out which of those guys is the one who made me who I am now.' He climbed to his feet and started pacing again. 'It's not like ... like they are all compatible memories. This me can't have both had a massive fight with Amy _and_ been best friends with her at the same age. It's just not possible – none of this slots into place properly. All my memories are just floating around refusing to stick ...'

'Oh, honey,' River laughed. 'You're so stuck on those details again that you can't see the plain truth.'

'Details? Truth? What truth? This all makes perfect sense, or rather – perfect not sense.' It was with great effort that Rory managed to stop himself from stamping his feet in a petulant rage. River's smile just widened and she indicated towards the bed next to her. Feeling foolish, Rory sat down next to her.

'Truth like how at the same age in each life you went through something similar.'

Rory stared at her, his mouth open.

'So, you're saying – I'm always the same me no matter what life I lived?'

'Yes.'

'But – all of them, they're so different.'

'No they're not, Rory. Not really. The experiences may be different, but the person behind them is the same. You were always you no matter what life threw at you.' She tapped his forehead. 'The person in here, he's the same.'

**Leadworth, 2009, original universe, 21 years old**

For once Rory was going with the flow – his mother had insisted he wasn't allowed to do any of the party planning and while that had stressed him out at the start, now he was just enjoying himself. Jeff, who had gone from worst enemy to good friend, had just finished telling a long, rambly and embarrassing story about Rory's wimpy years. Rory, blushing, glanced over to where Amy was sitting. She was looking at him with a really odd expression on her face. He was pretty sure she was drunk too. Waving off the attempts of some of his mates to get him onto the dance floor, Rory wandered over and plumped himself down beside Amy. She smiled at him.

'You're a daft old thing, you.'

'I'm not old!' Rory protested. 'I'm only twenty one.'

'Eh, you're old, compared to me,' Amy shrugged and took another swig of the beer she was holding.

When Rory tried to protest, she sniggered. 'Don't you want to kiss me?' she asked, out of the blue. Rory gaped at her. Of course he wanted to kiss her. He'd wanted to kiss her almost since he could remember.

'I ... of course I do' he stammered. 'I didn't think you ...'

Amy pulled his head down, whispered, 'shut up Rory' and kissed him. His head spun and he flapped his hands uselessly for a second before instinct kicked in and he put his arms around her. She pulled away from him and grinned.

'There,' she said, 'that's done with. Now let's go dance.'

Still bemused, Rory followed her onto the dance floor where he ineptly followed Amy's lead as she tried to teach him the macarena.

**Roman Britain, AD 102, original universe, 23 years old**

Dear Aemilia :-

I've finally done it, become a soldier just like I always wanted to. After Dad allowed me to think about joining the legion you know I've been working towards this day. I actually have men under my charge! We are tasked with protecting the region from the blue barbarians and I feel like my life has some purpose now. Of course, there are days when I think maybe I wasn't designed to hunt and kill other men, that I should be helping and protecting people, but then I remember how important this job is and that I am playing a significant role for my emperor. We have been deployed to the stone monolith in the west country to take up a commission with the legion stationed there. It is a strange and unsettling place.

We have heard rumours. Cleopatra is in the area and she has brought strange people with her. They wear odd clothing and speak Latin that can be understood but is heavily accented. One of them – the description of her reminds me of you and I'm sure that's the only reason the idea of her, and of this man with her, tickles at my consciousness. Talking about these people causes something weird to tap at the edge of my brain and I'm not sure I like it. I feel drawn to find this red-headed girl, like our destinies are somehow tied together. It feels like, maybe, there's some other part of me trying to get out and if I let it my life won't be the same again. But I won't talk of such fancies anymore, Aemilia. It is unroman and definitely unsoldierly to let dreams and imaginings spook one, so I shall put it out of my mind and burn an offering to the household gods next time I am home to cleanse myself of such thoughts.

The army here in Britain needs me to be strong so I will be strong – in the hopes of one day being sent to Rome itself. I hope you are well my dearest sister, and that my next letter will tell of some great battle against the barbarians. We here are all itching to fight and with Cleopatra in camp things are sure to get interesting.

**Upper Leadworth, 2008, rebooted universe, 20 years old**

Rory was humiliated. Amy thought he was gay? How? How could it be possible that she thought of him that way when he was so madly in love with her that it hurt? Mels knew, he thought. He caught her looking at him sometimes with a thoughtful smirk on her face. Ever since he'd told her to get out of his life she had been almost contrite with him and certainly spent a lot of time throwing him and Amy together.

Worried that he had made a total arse of himself, Rory left Amy's bedroom. He didn't want to see the revulsion on her face if he looked back at her. He knew he hadn't been guarded enough in the wake of her appalling announcement about his sexuality and that all his feelings were stark on his face. He'd seen the way her mouth dropped open in incredulous surprise. It wasn't that being gay was a problem, of course. It's just that Rory definitely wasn't. The dreams he had about Amy were sometimes embarrasingly sexual and he could never face her the days after he had them – and he was pretty sure that if he was gay more men would star in those dreams.

'Rory!' Amy's voice was breathless and he winced as he stopped and slowly turned towards her.

'Yes?' he could feel the blush creeping into his cheeks as he tried to remain calm and pretend nonchalance.

Amy stared at him for a long moment without speaking and then quickly pulled his head down to hers and kissed him. Startled, unsure what to do, Rory froze in place. Amy pulled back from him and grinned, the old swagger back.

'Was it that bad?' she asked.

'Bad? Um ... no. I just wasn't expecting –' Rory stammered out. His head was swimming and his heart hammering in his chest. Amy laughed at his discomfort, clearly at ease now that the immediate shock of Mels' words and Rory's actions had diminished. Throwing caution to the wind, he bent down to her and kissed her again. Her body molded to his as she enthusiastically kissed him back.

Slowly he became aware of music being played nearby and he pulled away from Amy and looked up. Mels grinned at him cheerfully and kept up the ridiculous Macarena dance she was doing to tinny music coming from Amy's stereo. Amy saw where he was looking and burst into laughter.

'Oi, Mels. You that desperate you've got to watch other people have at it?' she called out.

'Whatever!' Mels called back. 'It's taken you long enough; I had to check to make sure you weren't both still being stupid or something.'

Rory blushed again, but Amy took his hand and dragged him over to Mels where she forced him to take part in the dance. Despite disliking being put on display in this way – they were, after all, on the main street of Upper Leadworth where anyone could see the show – Rory joined in with more enthusiasm than skill. Amy eventually laughed and kissed him again which put paid to any thought of more dancing.

**TARDIS, 2012, rebooted universe, 24 years old**

'I was quite the bratty friend, wasn't I?' River mused as Rory stopped again.

'Do not get me started on you being my childhood friend in one life, River. That just complicates matters in far too many ways.'

'I keep telling you, Rory. It's not complicated; it's very, _very_ simple.'

Rory glared at her. 'If I was a real dad I'd be sending you to your room right about now.'

River laughed, that throaty laugh she used when she was genuinely amused that someone wasn't understanding something and she would get to enlighten them.

'You are the sum of your parts; everyone is. You have no need to understand all those parts for them to be you.' She held up a hand again as Rory tried to interject. 'No, it is simple. Roranicus, yes he's not real – at least he's not real for that first twenty three years. You can probably pretend _those_ memories are a movie or something.'

'Chance would be a fine thing,' Rory muttered mutinously. 'They're all there just as vivid as the auton's ones from the years guarding the Pandorica. And those definitely happened.'

'Rory, look. This isn't going to be easy for you but you can do this.'

'I just wanted a normal life, you know,' Rory said conversationally, as if the previous hour's conversation hadn't occurred. 'Live in Leadworth, marry Amy, have a few babies. You know – have a happy, _normal_ life.'

'I know,' said River and there was a certain amount of compassion in her eyes.

'But that life is gone. That Rory got wiped out in favour of Roranicus and a part-time Rory who never knew the Doctor. That Rory loved an Amy who had no parents, who was broken and who needed him –'

'And it annoys you that none of the other Rorys' Amys need you in the same way, doesn't it?'

Rory clamped his lips shut and eyed her in shock. He had never thought about that before.

'You like to be needed, Rory, and oh how Amy needed you when she was broken.'

River stopped for a moment to give Rory a chance to speak, but he was too shocked by the thought to respond. River smirked at him.

'The thing you need to realise is that she still needs you no matter how strong she is. Think about all those things you've just told me, about how many times you had her back even when you thought she was doing the most ridiculous thing. All those times Amy was able to be that person _because_ you were there to catch her if she fell.' River laughed softly. 'Besides, it's when someone comes back to you – over and over again – when they _don't_ need to that you really know they care.'

She sat in silence for a few moments before adding, 'listen to me. I've gone all mushy in my old age. You just think about it, daddy dear. I think you'll see what I mean.' She patted his knee affectionately, the motherly gesture belying her reference to his parenthood, then stood up, fluffed her hair and left the room, saying, 'I need to go find my husband now, don't you think? All that mushiness needs some sort of outlet...' she winked at Rory as she closed the door behind her.

Alone once more, head buzzing with even more confused images than ever, but somehow feeling less lost, Rory lay down on the bed again. He fell asleep.

In his dream, the Pandorica sat in front of him. The Last Centurion knew what he had to do. It was simple.

He would live.

He had spent two thousand years accumulating memories and experiences. He laughed at his other selves – Rory, Roranicus, Rory the second; compared to two thousand years their pitiful lifetimes were over in the blink of an eye. So long as he could be the Last Centurion when he needed to keep himself together, he could reconcile anything. The Last Centurion gathered up all his lifetimes of memories and carefully shut them away behind a door in his mind. He firmly locked the door, which had sometimes swung open and so tormented poor Rory. He held the key; those lives would not be forgotten. But now it was time for the Last Centurion to retire, and for Rory to accept the person he had become across so many universes, so many places, so many experiences. It was time just to be himself. That was, as River/Melody/Mels had suggested, the only person he knew how to be.


End file.
